I had breakfast sitting on a bench outside the general store. Two college girls passed, and we talked for a minute or two. They said that it was mostly downhill into Canon City. Once again, I was taken with how friendly the women were in the area. It was normal to start up a conversation with a stranger; it wasn’t a pass.

my original writeup was in 7-bit ascii, and there was no way to type the enye in Cañon city.

Descending is the glorious reward of every cyclist. The ride that day was spectacular. The hills had the scent of freshly cut watermelon. I had the song of a merry brook for company as I coasted along in the cool air. Actually, there was no water. It was the wind dancing through the leaves of the Aspen.

Another cyclist had recommended the St. Cloud Hotel in Canon City to me. He also told me to say hello to Lee at the desk. The St. Cloud was rather difficult to locate, but when I arrived, I understood why the place had been recommended.

The hotel ostensibly was run by three gorgeous college girls. Or, perhaps my impression was shaded by loneliness. Cathie, Shelly, and Lee. Cathie ran me up to room 305 in the manual elevator. My room had a sink but no bathroom, but it did have air conditioning. The shower was down the hall. And all that for $15! The ride in the elevator with Cathie was almost worth that.

strawberry blonde shelly went to school in ft. collins. lee, the girl who led the other two cyclists back to the st. cloud, had a virginia accent. i missed merrianne.

I walked the streets of that city of 14,000 that night. Lots of kids cruzing.